


#30:  When You're With New Friends, Don't Just Talk About Old Friends

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [30]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bribery, Gen, Gossip, Lunch, Pre-Slash, newbie natasha, phil knows clint well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Natasha have lunch shortly after she's brought to SHIELD, and Clint fills her in on some of the office gossip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#30:  When You're With New Friends, Don't Just Talk About Old Friends

It took about a month for Fury and Psych to decide that Natalia “call me Natasha” Romanoff wasn’t actually a threat to SHIELD’s internal security and they let her out of the secured guest quarters to begin training. 

Clint, as part of his “punishment” for insubordination and going AWOL for 36 hours, had been made her unofficial Supervising Agent (Coulson was officially her SO, but he had about a million other things to deal with), and was supposed to basically shadow her at all times. He’d also been denied his scheduled pay bump and confined to quarters on base for two weeks, neither of which he felt were any big deal (and he knew that Phil and Fury knew it, which is how Clint knew he wasn’t really in any trouble but the image had to be maintained that procedure was followed). 

So, for the better part of two weeks, he stuck to her side, showing her the ropes and filling her in on as much gossip as he had to help her get to know some of the people who were still quite leery of her presence.

One of the best ways to do that was over lunch in the canteen, since nearly every agent was sure to wander through at some point, either for a meal, or for coffee and a snack between meetings, briefings, or training.

“That’s Jasper Sitwell,” Clint said, nodding toward the bald agent with dark skin and aviator style glasses. “If you want to know where to eat just about anywhere in the world, ask him. He’s also great undercover; he’s known for his patsy.”

“His what?” Natasha asked. Despite speaking English fluently and without much of an accent unless she was exhausted, sometimes idioms still tripped her up.

“A patsy is someone who gets blamed for things,” Clint explained. “Like a scapegoat. He’s great at going in and getting himself put in that position. Also, if you need a favor, he’s partial to pancakes, peppermint mochas, and novelty socks.”

Natasha just quirked an eyebrow as she picked through her salad, spearing a combination of every ingredient onto her fork before taking the bite. “And her?” she asked after swallowing, nodding toward a grandmotherly looking woman with tight grey curls, dressed in slacks and a pale yellow sweater.

“That’s Deanna, from HR,” Clint said. “She doesn’t look it, but she used to be a field agent and still gets called in to help train the baby agents because they never suspect her of being a threat. She makes killer pumpkin bars around the holidays, has a fondness for cheap box wine and chocolate cake. Not,” he said quickly, “that I would _ever_ exploit those weaknesses.”

“Barton, we all know you have found ways to bribe almost everyone to get what you want, need, or otherwise,” Coulson said, sliding into a seat at their table with his own lunch. “Stevenson still goes on about how you managed to find that blu ray copy of Strange Brew.”

Clint snorted; it hadn’t been hard.

“And if I need something from him?” Natasha asked Coulson, effectively ignoring Clint for the moment after nodding in his direction. He tried not to pout, though there was something that flashed briefly across her face, an emotion he couldn’t quite identify just yet.

Coulson’s eyes crinkled for a moment and Clint shot him a warning glare. “Besides just asking nicely?” Coulson asked.

Clint swore he saw Natasha’s mouth quirk, however briefly, into a smile. She nodded. 

See, the thing was, Clint usually didn’t have to be convinced to do anything. SHIELD gave him what he needed, a roof over his head, meals, clothes, and a job, so when he was asked to do something, unless it violated his admittedly small pool of personal ethics, he did it, mostly without question.

“Fresh fruit,” Coulson responded, tucking a napkin into his collar before starting on his own salad. “Especially citrus or grapes.”

Clint didn’t flinch as Natasha studied him curiously. He hadn’t filled in much of his past with her so far (he trusted her, but only so far so early in their – relationship), but he knew she was putting together what information she’d gathered. “Okay,” she said, turning her focus back to her salad. 

Clint carefully didn’t let the relief he felt at her dropping it show on his face.

“Now the medical staff,” Coulson said, picking up the thread of their conversation, using his chin to point off to a table against the wall full of people in scrubs, “those are the ones you really want to remember to keep on your good side…”


End file.
